SHANA TOVAH
One of the most amazing things I keep noticing this week is how much construction there is everywhere in this country. Everywhere you go, there are new construction projects, new parks, new exciting developments. We were so impressed with what the city Ashdod will be in another year. Incredible walk and park being built on shore.
Today I pointed out Sabras to my kids as we were driving to Ashdod to toss our yearly sins (symbolized by bread) into the Mediterranean. Sabras in English are "prickly pears".
I told my son that Israelis are sometimes called sabras. I explained sabras are prickly on the outside but sweet on the inside. How is that like Israelis? He understood that on the outside means on the surface they are rude and tough but on the inside they are very sweet.
It is quite a dichotomy. It works like this:
You will drive and people will not make eye contact as they inch up clearly not going to let you in their lane. But then you make eye contact and say "can I get in here?" with the universal look and arrow point. And of course, they let you in.
If you have Israeli friends, they will bend over backwards for you. Rosh Hashana, we stayed at our friends' town of Modiin and ate at Shir and Yakir's table for nearly all the meals (except one--thank you Peri!). Not only were we fed to the point of gluttony (with amazing food, wine and dessert at every meal)....Wait, I must digress. Did you know that putting fish and meat on the same table is gluttonous (one of the reasons Jews don't serve it together)? That being said, we were feasting for four days and really made to feel so welcome.
And it is truly truly truly amazing to be in Israel on a Jewish holiday. It just feels like a holiday everywhere. I probably went to less synagogue than ever on Rosh Hashana, but still felt like I had this holiday experience. And you would not believe how many kids there are just running around everywhere and all over the playground. Have I mentioned the playgrounds?!?!? They are amazing.
Where did we sleep? Friends of our friends gave us their apartment. We never met them. Never exchanged a word. Keys were handed to our friends to give us, and that's it. We had an apartment. Even my kids didn't understand how we weren't paying for it.
The point? Israelis can be amazingly warm and hospitable. They'll do anything for you. Except....
(star wars Darth Vader music now...)
Enter Misrad HaPnim (the Department of the Interior). This is like the huge cactus spike obscuring the sweet fruit.
I will now digress again. I told my son I was proud of his Hebrew learning. He said "I'm proud of you too for.....you doing visa stuff" (huh, I guess that has been talked about a lot). I wanted to tell him "I STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN US VISAS!!" but I couldn't bring myself to share the bitter truth.
So, you know things are nuts when another American Fulbright describes having breakdowns over getting her visa and finally learning how she can get one that doesn't require making money but does require you to be Jewish but doesn't require an FBI check. Interestingly, she found out about this secret visa, and I'm pretty sure the Misrad HaPnim doesn't know about it. At least not mine! Because they refused to tell me about it yesterday.
You know the country is...well, unique... when people tell you to go on a radio show because they will solve your visa problem. Really? A radio show?? Okay, so I love my cousin Yehuda, but I was pretty sure he was showing signs of dementia when he explained this. However, when two people tell you the same thing, fine, I wrote the letter. Before I share it with you, I will add that the second person I spoke to recommended that I have a full out meltdown and start crying in front of them that my kids and husband need a visa or they'll be sent home.
Before I paste the letter for anyone who cares to read it, I'll say that the family is doing well. Sivan and I had our first emergency room visit for a concussion-like injury (I guess a small concussion?). That came from a "I don't want to go to school" tantrum. Which she actually doesn't remember. Some memories are better to be lost. The emergency room was kid-only so it was a gentle experience. Matan has mastered his 30 Hebrew flashcards and is finally starting to use a tiny bit of Hebrew. Sivan is carrying on in Hebrew with her friends and she just TRIES more than any of us, and KOL HAKAVOD for that.
Anyway, here's the letter (in English):
Hello! (really, I had no idea how to start this letter! Hello saviors?, okay back to the letter....)
I never knew that as a Jew, spending a year in Israel could provoke so much frustration. We are not in a position to make aliyah, but we were lucky to be able to come to Israel for a year. We are professors from the State of New York on a sabbatical here in Israel and we have two children. It was a dream come true to make this happen. My children will learn Hebrew! And we will be in Israel for a year!
Before I came to Israel, I knew I had a strange status. We were not immigrants, not citizens, but not really tourists. After all, we would enroll our children in school.
My mother lived in Israel as a child, but she did not register my birth (it's not my fault!). Before I left the United States I realized that we needed a permanent status in Israel (more than a tourist). I tried to call the embassy and the consulate, and after a few weeks, finally I gave up. They will not return the calls. Their voicemail was full. Nefesh B'Nefesh will not talk to me, because we did not make aliyah. The Sochnut began my registration process only to find out that I needed to speak to the embassy. An embassy told me to take care of it in Israel because I was too old (of course, in the end, they had to see my mother personally but did not explain it then). They would not help us get the visas my family needs, as we were required to talk to our local consulate (which, interestingly) may have different requirements. The consulate, of course, did not answer the phone or emails, so it was lost cause to try to get visas before coming in. Remember, I'm on the Fulbright Fellowship and could not get answers from anyone.
Trying to live in Israel with a B2 visa is very frustrating. Everyone asks for our teudah zehut. I am initiating my citizenship (this very week documents are arriving so my reluctant mother can go to the embassy). The misrad hapnim was no help--they gave no clear instructions, and would not answer anything about my husband and kids getting visas. There is no one to call to ask questions. And you are lucky if they even let you in the door. The first time they told me to fax to make an appointment. Of course, I missed their phone call and they never told me how to call them back. The second time, I waited there for 4 hours.
Today I pointed out Sabras to my kids as we were driving to Ashdod to toss our yearly sins (symbolized by bread) into the Mediterranean. Sabras in English are "prickly pears".
I told my son that Israelis are sometimes called sabras. I explained sabras are prickly on the outside but sweet on the inside. How is that like Israelis? He understood that on the outside means on the surface they are rude and tough but on the inside they are very sweet.
It is quite a dichotomy. It works like this:
You will drive and people will not make eye contact as they inch up clearly not going to let you in their lane. But then you make eye contact and say "can I get in here?" with the universal look and arrow point. And of course, they let you in.
If you have Israeli friends, they will bend over backwards for you. Rosh Hashana, we stayed at our friends' town of Modiin and ate at Shir and Yakir's table for nearly all the meals (except one--thank you Peri!). Not only were we fed to the point of gluttony (with amazing food, wine and dessert at every meal)....Wait, I must digress. Did you know that putting fish and meat on the same table is gluttonous (one of the reasons Jews don't serve it together)? That being said, we were feasting for four days and really made to feel so welcome.
And it is truly truly truly amazing to be in Israel on a Jewish holiday. It just feels like a holiday everywhere. I probably went to less synagogue than ever on Rosh Hashana, but still felt like I had this holiday experience. And you would not believe how many kids there are just running around everywhere and all over the playground. Have I mentioned the playgrounds?!?!? They are amazing.
Where did we sleep? Friends of our friends gave us their apartment. We never met them. Never exchanged a word. Keys were handed to our friends to give us, and that's it. We had an apartment. Even my kids didn't understand how we weren't paying for it.
The point? Israelis can be amazingly warm and hospitable. They'll do anything for you. Except....
(star wars Darth Vader music now...)
Enter Misrad HaPnim (the Department of the Interior). This is like the huge cactus spike obscuring the sweet fruit.
I will now digress again. I told my son I was proud of his Hebrew learning. He said "I'm proud of you too for.....you doing visa stuff" (huh, I guess that has been talked about a lot). I wanted to tell him "I STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN US VISAS!!" but I couldn't bring myself to share the bitter truth.
So, you know things are nuts when another American Fulbright describes having breakdowns over getting her visa and finally learning how she can get one that doesn't require making money but does require you to be Jewish but doesn't require an FBI check. Interestingly, she found out about this secret visa, and I'm pretty sure the Misrad HaPnim doesn't know about it. At least not mine! Because they refused to tell me about it yesterday.
You know the country is...well, unique... when people tell you to go on a radio show because they will solve your visa problem. Really? A radio show?? Okay, so I love my cousin Yehuda, but I was pretty sure he was showing signs of dementia when he explained this. However, when two people tell you the same thing, fine, I wrote the letter. Before I share it with you, I will add that the second person I spoke to recommended that I have a full out meltdown and start crying in front of them that my kids and husband need a visa or they'll be sent home.
Before I paste the letter for anyone who cares to read it, I'll say that the family is doing well. Sivan and I had our first emergency room visit for a concussion-like injury (I guess a small concussion?). That came from a "I don't want to go to school" tantrum. Which she actually doesn't remember. Some memories are better to be lost. The emergency room was kid-only so it was a gentle experience. Matan has mastered his 30 Hebrew flashcards and is finally starting to use a tiny bit of Hebrew. Sivan is carrying on in Hebrew with her friends and she just TRIES more than any of us, and KOL HAKAVOD for that.
Anyway, here's the letter (in English):
Hello! (really, I had no idea how to start this letter! Hello saviors?, okay back to the letter....)
I never knew that as a Jew, spending a year in Israel could provoke so much frustration. We are not in a position to make aliyah, but we were lucky to be able to come to Israel for a year. We are professors from the State of New York on a sabbatical here in Israel and we have two children. It was a dream come true to make this happen. My children will learn Hebrew! And we will be in Israel for a year!
Before I came to Israel, I knew I had a strange status. We were not immigrants, not citizens, but not really tourists. After all, we would enroll our children in school.
My mother lived in Israel as a child, but she did not register my birth (it's not my fault!). Before I left the United States I realized that we needed a permanent status in Israel (more than a tourist). I tried to call the embassy and the consulate, and after a few weeks, finally I gave up. They will not return the calls. Their voicemail was full. Nefesh B'Nefesh will not talk to me, because we did not make aliyah. The Sochnut began my registration process only to find out that I needed to speak to the embassy. An embassy told me to take care of it in Israel because I was too old (of course, in the end, they had to see my mother personally but did not explain it then). They would not help us get the visas my family needs, as we were required to talk to our local consulate (which, interestingly) may have different requirements. The consulate, of course, did not answer the phone or emails, so it was lost cause to try to get visas before coming in. Remember, I'm on the Fulbright Fellowship and could not get answers from anyone.
Fast forward, Nefesh BNefesh has agreed to help me, and I'm working on trying to change over my own visa. However, my husband and kids are still left without a solution, and I'm trying to buy a car.
We have heard that tourists can buy cars. We have been told this many times.
Attempt 1 at this started at the post office in Ramle, where they referred my husband to the Misrad of Transportation. They looked at my husband's visa (a piece of paper as they don't stamp american passports) and said, no, we can't do this. Go to Holon maybe. The misrad of chaniya (parking) in Rehovot promised me it could be done but I had to go to Misrad of Rishoi in Rechovot.
That was today. We went, and showed them our passports and visas. They asked for the stamp. There is no stamp. They told me my B2 visa was not a visa but rather a border entry. I told them it was a Visa. A B2. They didn't know what that was. They told me to go to misrad hapnim to get visa. I went there. I talked to someone who, after consultation, gave me a number for waiting in line. When it was my turn, they didn't know what to do with me and referred me to manager. Manager finally saw me in her office, and handed me a piece of paper (a certificate) with my information and visa status. She could see I had started the process for getting citizenship. I told her I needed some stamp, some number. And they said, there is no such thing. This is what they need.
I went back to Misrad HaRishoi and they looked at it and said, no, we need a stamp. I asked them to call the Misrad HaPnim. They refused. They said maybe someone in Ramla knows. Can I call that person? No, go in person. Of course there is no way to call Misrad HaPnim.
So, I went back to the Misrad HaPnim and the woman said that she could not put a stamp in my passport because I'm a citizen. A citizen who is waiting to get her citzenship. Can I at least have my tourist visa stamped in the passport instead of a piece of paper? No. They don't know what the Rishoi wants. Forget buying a car, they told me.
We want to buy a private car from someone for a few months. Everyone says this is possible (including the laws published on the internet), but I'm finding it impossible. It's like the left hand in this country doesn't know the right hand. There are no clear answers, starting with the fact that despite all my efforts to have the consulate issue me a visa (or answers) before I came to Israel.
Misrad haPnim would not agree to give my husband a visa because he should go through Weizmann. Weizmann says they won't do it until his tourist visa is almost up.
Before I came, someone told me they made aliyah just so they could stay in Israel for a year. I thought that was crazy. After all, I was Jewish and have been in Israel many times. Now I'm wishing I had done that for my family.
Today, I heard from another girl in our program that she began hating Israel because of visa issues, until someone told her of a visa for Jewish people who are not making money called a B1.
I love Israel but my frustration is through the roof.
This country is so smart, saavy, forward thinking....getting a visa shouldn't depend on whether the clerk feels like helping you out (which apparently is what I'm told will fix my family's problem).
Thank you for listening,
Yasmine Kalkstein
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